Blasé
by SpellboundWinter
Summary: Freudian slips. Library books. Naughty words. Learning French. College finals. Christophe and Rebecca have a little too much fun in the library, learning more about each other than what they're studying for. ChristophexRebecca.


**Because speaking two languages takes diligence. :D**

**ChristophexRebecca or Remole.**

* * *

><p>Christophe had a list of places he hated.<p>

America was close to the top. No surprise there. He loved his home country and he wasn't afraid to shout, '_Vive La France_!' when speaking with Gregory.

But, even before that, the first on his list would be the public library.

He hated, no, abhorred it.

Of course the library was a theme park if you were Rebecca Cotswold. She would often be found on one of the ladders with the wheels on it, sliding back and forth, going from row to row, skimming and shifting all around. It even looked like a theme park ride.

But, what kind of books are that high off the ground? Probably dirty ones. Those trashy novels for women. Rebecca had stacks upon stacks layered on her dorm floor and she seemed to not care that her porn laid out in the open. But, he didn't mind that. That wasn't what bothered him.

The only problem he had been her on those ladders. Those fucking ladders.

And she never understood when he told her about the dangers of wearing those skirts and being so high up. She was so goddamn naïve. He tried to explain to her once that at just the right angle anyone walking by could peek right up her skirt. She brushed him off saying that, 'no one would be that lecherous'. Meanwhile, as she was saying that, a nerdy redhead clearly stood nearby, leaning to get a glimpse of what lied underneath.

Christophe had to admit, it was a ballsy move. The ginger nerd was a little braver than he was in that respect. But it didn't mean he wouldn't drag Dougie outside and beat the living piss out of him in the alley.

And he did.

Since then, Christophe kept an eye on the poodle girl, making sure she wouldn't expose herself to every weirdo and drunken bum that would saunter inside.

Another reason he hated the library? The smell. Library books had a definite smell. It smelled like learning and old people. That smell of almonds and dust. The musty smell of the library made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Although, Rebecca enjoyed it. Always making remarks on how lovely it smelled.

When Christophe saw her, nine times out of ten she smelled like the fucking books.

But there was always some good with the bad. There had to be a reason why he liked the library.

The only reason he could come up with was that it was quiet. Too quiet sometimes. Because of how rough his voice was, it would often cut through that silence. Rebecca said his voice was, 'soothing but aggressive like sandpaper.'

He almost had the uncontrollable urge to make a dying giraffe noise when it was that quiet.

But he needed silence. It was imperative that he studied. College finals were a pain and trying to pass a course that he absolutely hated in a place that he hated made it even worse.

There the both of them were, studying at a table near the picture windows and an hour or so and the library would close on them. Christophe made sure to set his watch since the two were locked in once. How? The librarian forgot all about them, probably had to make it home to her cats. He remembered Rebecca couldn't have been bothered while, on the other hand, he was clawing at the walls.

Maybe that was why he hated it so much?

But even if he hated it that much, he had to study for finals.

He sucked at the little class called thermal physics. It touched upon quantum theory and entropy and everything else that made him curse God. He thought of it as a bump in the road for him on his journey to become a geologist. All he dreamt about was taking his trusty spade, digging a hole into the earth and recording minerals. That was it. He wanted to get dirty and leave all the other shit behind him. Just him and dirt.

Of course, he wasn't the only person that was studying for a course they hated. Beside him Rebecca was studying for her French final, licking her index finger as she flipped another page. She continued to squint, sounding out letters and spelling into her palms with a perplex look.

It was a little funny. Before, she had no interest in the language and since she started talking more with him, she suddenly wanted to know all about it. Christophe could tell, Rebecca could be read like an open book. She wasn't complex in the least. But he felt flattered.

She glanced over to the man timidly, tugging on his sleeve. "…C-Christophe?"

"Hm?" he grunted. "What iz eet, poodle?

"I-I, um… I need some help with my F-French. I was just thinking that you could… maybe h-help me? I-I mean, if it isn't too much trouble. I don't want to be a burden. B-u-r-d-e-n."

Christophe set his book down on the faux wood table, looking to the woman with a satisfied smile. "I zee, you want zo learn zhe best language in zhe whole world?"

"Oui!" she practically chirps.

Everyone sought them as an unlikely couple, Christophe included. She would always listen to the nonsense that he would keep locked up in his brain. He would occasionally flirt with her in French- since it sounded better in his mother's tongue. But translating things into English made the compliments seem duller and unfit.

So maybe that was why she wanted to learn.

At first, they were speaking well… Then she was just trying to keep up with him. Rebecca sat, sounding out words like a toddler just learning to talk. Christophe kept smiling to himself, subtly hiding it by scratching his cheek. The girl had a terrible French accent, like someone gargling mouthwash. It was completely terrible. He wanted to tell her, 'be prepared to fail your oral final.'

But that was a little too harsh even by Christophe's standards.

"Non, iz _mémère_ and _pépère_ if you want to be a zmartaz to your grandparents." Christophe had to inwardly laugh. His grandparents back in France were tight-asses.

They always used to send him gifts on his birthdays but the gifts stopped coming. Why? Because they died. Dead people don't give gifts.

"…Why would anyone say that?" she placed her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "T-that's so rude."

"Because. Iz funny."

Rebecca let out a loud, frustrated sigh. She shut her book loudly, her expression sullen. Rebecca began to fiddle with Christophe's hand. She probably noticed all the dirt stuck in the creases and under his fingernails. Christophe, the aspiring Geologist, liked to dig. There was no trace of thermal physics embedded in his nails.

"I'm sorry. I hope I don't come off…" she struggles trying to find the right word. "Uh, well… _baise-moi_."

…What was that?

Did she say what he thought she said? Did she really just say that? Wow. Christophe did a double take, withdrawing his hand from hers. "…What?"

She looked up, blinking quickly, as if confused. Rebecca tucked her curls behind her ears. She was cute. A little frumpy and homely but still cute nonetheless. Besides, when she did herself up, she had a habit of layering the makeup a little too heavy. He liked his Rebecca normal and plain.

"I… You know, I hope I don't seem so uncaring and indifferent about learning French."

She seemed so sincere when she said it too.

A grin spread on the Frenchman's face. "Non. You zaid… You want me to fuck you."

Yep, the woman asked her, rather forwardly, to fuck her. Rebecca never cursed. On the occasion she would say, '_you bet your sweet ass_' for some reason.

Christophe noticed the slow look of horror that appeared on her face. And it seemed as though her heart exploded in her chest as she got to her feet. "No! N-no!" Her breath was caught in her throat as she turned redder and redder, her voice in a loud squeal. "I didn't! I swear!"

Rebecca was cute in a panic. If she wasn't on edge, she wasn't all _that_ fun. He liked to shake her up, like a cocktail shaker.

She continued to blubber on, touching her cheeks that began to turn from a light pink into a darker red, matching her barrattes. "I-I… I didn't mean to! Oh my gosh! M-i-s-t-a-k-e."

Christophe leaned forward, placing a few fingers over her mouth. "Remember where you are. Zhe library. And I zpeak French. I know what you zaid. Maybe it was a Freudian slip? What your… zubconscious truly desires."

Again, Christophe wiggled his eyebrows, the angry caterpillars doing a little dance.

Her eyes lit up as she clamored after him, nearly darting into his lap. The chair creaking under their weight. "_Blasé_!" she practically shouted, "I-I meant… blasé! I didn't mean…"

"How will I ever be your boyfriend when you don't just read porn and zpeaking zo vulgar to me in French but you also wears zkirts on ladders, exposing your panties for every pervert to zee-"

"Non!" Rebecca snatched up his textbook, lifting it up before slamming it against the back of his head. Christophe chuckled, covering his face as she slammed the book into him. "N-Not in your wildest dreams, De Lorne! You're repulsive," she bludgeoned him with it. "Vile! Decrepit! Despicable!" With every word, Rebecca hit harder, her nostrils flaring.

"You don't mean it," He pawed her away, grinning widely. From the corner of his eye, he could see the librarian sit up, giving the two the universal signal to be silent. The good ol' index finger against the lips, "And you're loud zoo. Do you want zo get us kicked out, perv?"

Rebecca dropped the book rather quickly, as if it were hot coals. It slammed loudly against the table and the librarian got up from her seat. He brought his attention back to Rebecca as she covered her face, whimpering lowly.

The poodle haired girl didn't like vulgar language, as if she was never exposed to it. So...He might have gone a little too far.

Christophe dragged the woman into his arms, letting her sit on his lap. He brushed part of her exposed cheek, rubbing his callused thumb against the smooth skin. "Oh, mon amour, eet was a joke."

Rebecca uncovered her face, wringing her hands nervously. She pouted, her head bowed and those big poodle eyes were looking up at him. "You know I d-don't like a boys who talk dirty."

Taking dirty? No, Christophe would never think with his 'deek'.

"Je veux aller à la cave."

Christophe had his turn to be perverse to even the playing score. Rebecca said something completely perverted and so did he. They were even. And luckily, she didn't catch any of it. It was French slang anyways, not like she would understand. Its equivalent was pretty much, 'I want to eat you out' or something a little more vulgar. But no way would Rebecca get it seeing as she was too naïve and couldn't speak a lick of French without gargling. …Chewbacca speaking French. Yes! That was her equivalent.

"What does that mean?" she asked timidly.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, hearing their watches make a synchronized beep. He nuzzled her tightly, bringing up her sweater on her left wrist. Lo and behold, she had a watch of her very own. "We even 'ave synchronized watches. You're fucking perfect. 'ave I told you zhat?" he brushed curls away from her face, straightening out her barrettes. She winced as her hair snagged slightly.

"Y-you really think that? Really?" a small smile graced features, hiding slightly in her hands. "P-e-r-f-e-c-t."

"Of course." He brushed his lips against her cheek, meeting hers. He cringed, he could almost taste books. Just then, Rebecca yanked him closer, her fingers running through his short choppy locks, deepening the kiss. It went from a simple chaste kiss to full on snogging. Oh yeah, Rebecca was weird about kissing. He nearly forgot about that.

Until she froze.

One eye peeked open, looking all around. She mumbled against his mouth. "Wait, 'je veux aller à la cave'," she pulled away, snapping a small string of saliva. "Yo-you want to go down to my cellar...?"

Damn her French abilities.

"You're zhe one who zaid eet," Christophe plopped the woman onto her feet, gathering their books and casting a spare hand on her back. He began to lead her, very quickly, to the exit. The librarian watching them closely as they passed by. "Eets what your zubconscious desires. And if eets what you desire, I'll 'ave to take a long tour of your cellar."

Rebecca flushed, holding her cheeks as they lit fire, "Christophe De Lorne, you're despicable! I didn't learn any French. I only learned how to insult people and say naughty things."

"Say, '_Je vais vous donner une pipé_'."

"Je vais vous donner une... pipé?"

Christophe squeezed the girl into his side, grinning ear to ear. "You want zo give me a blowjob, huh? Pervert. But if eets what you want..."

Another squeal and Rebecca took the books from him and began to beat him with it. And he laughed on, letting her belt him.

Of course Christophe had a list of places he hated.

America was there, no surprise. But, even before that, the first on his list would be the public library. He might have abhorred it but Rebecca made the hell on earth a better place. Making it a little more interesting.

That was the only good thing about the library.


End file.
